


Prayin' For Rain

by Soul4Sale



Series: Prayin' For Rain [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Human, AU - Modern, Cheating, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, F/F, F/M, Gay/Slash/Yaoi, Hetero/Straight, Lemons (Various), Lesbian/Femslash/Yuri, M/M, Marijuana Use, Multi, Nudity, Sexual Themes, Skinny Dipping, Smoking, Summer Romance, alcohol use, canon character death, lots of flirting, multi-ship, romanticized country life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3652098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sleepy little town of Lothering, Tennessee was anything but sleepy during the summertime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Manage Me, I'm A Mess

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this as a roleplay intro, and it turned into a story. xD I hope you guys don’t mind. I’m not planning this one, just going to let it go and see where it takes us. I miss writing stories like this. xD Anyway, I think that I will post a journal on deviantart (find me at missus--cellophane) that will explain headcanons, ages, and past relationships if people ask me for it. Thank you, guys!

Summer winds made the lakeside town of Lothering a spectacle, taking rich green leaves and soft white flowers for tours around the camping people situated all over the lake and through the forests surrounding it. The Imperial Highway, in all of its disrepair, sidelined the little town and its richly wanted water source, which could now be seen full of mostly-naked swimmers, a few grouchy fishermen trying not to get their lines tangled between each other and the swimming children.   
The tavern was overrun with business, men trying to shirk their wives and women trying to shirk their _lives_ , hanging around the little watering hole that Lothering knew only as The Spot. People would use it as code, but everyone knew what it meant, and a lot of them knew what they were going for. For being a small, country town, they were awfully accepting when your father was the only doctor in town, and he loved his little boys more than his own life.

Ethan Hawke, the eldest son of Doctor Malcolm Hawke and Mrs. Leandra Hawke, was a particular favorite at The Spot. Whether he was working there or drinking, he was always beautiful, and from his head to his toes, everything was in place, nice and perfectly. His hair, usually wild and unkempt from his hours working on his father’s farm (It was he and Carver’s responsibility while Malcolm worked the clinic in town), now was worn in an intricate braid tied up around his head, wispy hair that didn’t fit at the bottom of his neck, and his body, mostly tanned from long days of hauling wood, hay, and other things, cutting back weeds and other such things, was strong and barely dressed. He’d showered before he’d come out, and his boots clunked on the wood floor of the Tavern as he slid behind the bar.

 

The usual uniform, a red-checked shirt tied over his chest like a girl would and a pair of almost-too tight, too small Daisy Dukes rest on his hips, just barely holding him back, and his boots clung to his calves, carving up the tan skin. From what everyone could tell, he had no tan lines, and it was a big discussion over a beer or twelve between Lothering natives and newcomers alike.   
Making his way through the tables, he waved and winked and smiled, easygoing and flirtatious with everyone who bothered looking in his direction. Heading to his first table, he sidled up beside it and rest his elbow on it carefully.

 

“Hey, there, fellas.” He winked at the couple at the table, “My name’s Ethan, and I’ll be your server. Y’all can also call me Hawke, if you’d like.” Tipping the cowboy hat resting on his head, he smiled, “So, what’ll ya have?”

Karl had spent a good three weeks planning this trip. It would do so much for their relationship, even if Anders was completely certain that things had changed between them. The elder man (it was hard for Anders to think that his lover was still older than him, his own age being thirty) had just returned from studying abroad, and the time apart had changed their perfect sync into some kind of disorganized dance around one another. 

Of course, it had been his idea to stop in such a little podunk town, convinced that their relationship could be rekindled somewhere that was away from their usual lives. With Karl being a physics professor who was going to become the department head at the college he worked at, and Anders being a doctor going for his residency at the Via Chantry Clinic in Kirkwall, well, he was sure that things would only fall apart. 

There seemed to be one thing that both men could still agree on, however; that the (no doubt younger) waiter they were assigned was _quite_ the looker. Neither man commented, but both saw the way the other offered him a long, appraising look, as though they were deciding between actually eating something, or taking him home in a doggy bag. Anders was the first to speak.

“Well, thank you, Ethan. I’ll have a beer… What have you got on tap?” The kind, easy smile that worked onto the younger blonde’s face made a twin on Anders’, and he seemed almost dreamily drawn in.

“Oh, you know. We have a few stout beers, a draught or two, and some that are made here in town. Our beer is best, if you ask me. Would you like to try the one my uncle makes?” The tightly corded muscle in his neck shifted and the two lovers seemed to cough and look at anything but their server for a moment, before their eyes locked. A kind, trying smile lit the bearded male’s face, and the younger grinned back at the blonde standing with his notepad ready.

“Sure, bring us the best beer in the house.” Karl intoned, smiling sweetly. The way his lover’s eyes watched those nearly perfect half-globes of flesh as the young man turned and sashayed away to put in their order wasn’t lost on him, not until he started to stare just as well.

“Am I going to have to keep an eye on you when Mr. Hawke is around?” He teased, Anders’ cheeks going pink clear up to his ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sputtering a little, those golden eyes locked on stormy blue and the pair seemed to shoot words between their looks. Whatever was said, Anders’ head was bowed when Ethan returned with two chilled bottles on a tray, setting them down and winking at them.

“Now, fellas, what can I get you to eat? Or are you content with your drinks?” He questioned, seafoam eyes alight with a kind of naughty glint as someone walked past him, giving a sound smack to his ass that had him giving a soft chuckle. Karl’s eyes widened a little, and Anders’ narrowed, but a hand on his thigh stilled his movements. They were from out of town; they likely had no idea of what was normal around here. Either way, Ethan didn’t seem too bothered by it, simply sending a mock kissy-face at the man who just grinned back, walking by like he didn’t have a thought in the world to consequences.

“I’d like some chili,” Karl said, “Spicy, please.” The scantily clad man’s grin only grew.

“Spiciest this side of Texas.” He smirked, winking and placing a hand on his shoulder before writing down his order, and then looked appraisingly at Anders. The man looked like his head was going to pop with unspoken words, but when he finally did answer, he made sure he was calm and collected.

“I’ll take the…” Golden eyes raked up that broad chest, the strong shoulders, powerful arms, all built differently than men who worked in gyms. Ethan’s muscle was from plain old hard work, helping around the farm his parents had, and every inch of it was a beautiful golden tan that made one want to lick it to see if it rubbed off. After a moment, that gold gaze made it back to the menu and he settled on something, “The Reuben on rye, with chips and a salad.” 

As the Lothering native wrote down the order, a slow peek of a slick, pink tongue made Anders’ mouth go dry, and he gulped his beer down to the brim of the neck before he had a chance to even taste it. With the younger man finally leaving, he coughed behind his hand, forcing himself not to stare as he walked away. 

“I’d say you might like this place more than you thought.” Karl chuckled, “If you’re already gawking at the serving boy in the bar.”

“I am _not_ gawking.” Anders assured, though the lingering way his eyes watched where Ethan had been lent to his denial. 

By the end of their meal, the strawberry blonde was, admittedly, squirming from watching their flirtatious waiter between tables, and, for a short time, when he sat with them. They were at a round booth at one corner of the bar, and his hand came to rest on the opposite of where Karl’s hand was, their knees touching as he chatted with them, even had a beer of his own. Once they paid (and, Maker’s breath, did Ethan earn a big tip out of this one), the pair made their way to the parking lot to hop into the rental car and head back to the hotel they were staying at. 

Ryse And Shyne Motel was just off the highway on the quieter part of town, away from the edge of the lake and the forest that thrived because of it. The drive alone was enough to take the edge off, and by the time the two men arrived, tensions seemed much lower and laughter gilded their conversations. Maybe they’d needed that beer and a bit of renewed tension. The door nearly fell open as Anders was pinned to it, the key in his hand jamming in the lock as lips found his neck, the wiry brush of Karl’s beard making him give a soft hitch of breath. 

The room itself wasn’t the most romantic place, with two beds (in case Anders was stubborn and insisted on not sharing) and a small walking space to the bathroom, but you didn’t need much when you were in love. Hours climbed by until it was nearly sundown, and the two men laying wrapped in a tangle of limbs and sheets decided to shower and go see what the lake was like when the fireflies were out. It was Karl’s time to drive, and he did so leisurely and slowly, taking in the sleepy town as it bustled with life as the sun sunk beneath the trees rimming the lake. Reds and golds burned the clouds into beautiful terra cotta spatters across the sky, lit only by the underlying daffodil yellow outlining them. 

Golden waves seemed to darken to a deep ochre as they pulled up at a bare lot, taking in the grand beauty of it all before they took notice of their neighbors. It wasn’t until he heard a vaguely familiar whoop and holler that he looked into the camp to their left, and Anders was a little floored. There was a large gathering of people, and several campers set up, and tents among them for those sleeping outside. Lights strung up between trees and trailers alike, and a large fire pit had been dug in the center, where they cooked and danced and drank alike. A few older people were telling stories, kids and teens listening or playing while the younger adults partied it up. And, among them, he could see the same young man from before, his Daisy Dukes turned to nearly denim panties and a white cotton muscle shirt, already drenched with beer. 

Honestly, Anders had nearly forgotten what jealousy felt like until he saw a shorter, much thinner man come up behind the blonde in the other camp, a peek of their actions shown between the space between a truck and trailer. Their hips ground as they danced to the music pouring from the center of their camp, and they shared soft, intimate-looking kisses out in the open like it didn’t matter if they were watched or not. He heard a woman cat-calling them, but he couldn’t quite hear what she had said.

Karl had taken to setting up their lounge chairs, getting the small cooler of drinks and food between them, and putting up a fishing pole for himself, resting it on a stick he’d found and dug in the ground.

“So much for a quiet night, eh, lovebird?” He questioned, looking over when Anders gave a soft, distracted, “Yeah.”


	2. What Baby Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a bit of a middle-man chapter to separate the main story a little. Don’t worry, I think it works out. For references:
> 
> Justice & Anders - Twins, Age 30. Anders = Doctor, Justice = Bodyguard for Senator Dumar and Saemus  
> Karl - Age 42, University Teacher  
> Ashaad - Age 31, Social Worker, Case Manager for Saemus Dumar  
> Saemus Dumar - Age 19, Son of the Senator for California (in this AU)  
> Marlowe Dumar - Age 54, Senator of California
> 
> I will make a much larger journal on Deviantart and semi-link it here if you guys want. Thank you~

“It just goes to show that you worry more for your brother than you do for your charges.” That pouty tone was easily recognizable, even as it planted a pit of dread in Justice’s stomach. By his rather grumpy lover’s tone alone, he knew he would be in for a long, silent car ride and an even _longer_ plane ride with the iciest cold shoulder Kirkwall could afford him. It wasn’t his fault, he wanted to be sure his twin and Karl arrived how they had wanted, and in a timely manner. Anders would do anything to get away from him, and so the two had taken a road trip instead of the plane, as himself, Bran, Saemus and Aaron were. 

Surveying the sleepy-looking young man before him, those usually bright sky-blue eyes hazy with fatigue, he turned those scary eyes on the violet-eyed man standing beside their charge, who had become a leaning-post for the Senator’s sleepy son. It was too damn early to be awake, but he took solace in the hand curled possessively around his shoulder, keeping him close.

“I think we are ready, Bran.” Justice said softly, a hand on his shoulder before it was shrugged off.

“Saemus, this way, please.” Removing the inky-locked male from his spot, he pushed him along through the check-in and soon through the airport itself to their gate. When they were called, he urged him further along until they were in their seats; Bran taking the third seat in the row beside Saemus (who sat at the window) and Aaron, and Justice forced to sit alone behind them. Double-checking his phone before being forced to turn it off, he made sure with a small smile that Anders and Karl had arrived okay. This would certainly be a long ride, if the animated anger from the redhead in front of him was any indication.

The sleepy celebutante curled up in his seat, resting on the muscled arm of his case worker, who offered a look bordering on fond on his usually stoic, stony face. He pet through that shock of dark hair and hummed a lullaby from his home country, just letting the other sleep most of the ride away. It wasn’t until they were nearly there that those blue eyes began to crack open and the boy shifted, leaning up to kiss the larger man’s cheek and blushing when he caught those poisonous green eyes of his attendant on him.

“I’m glad you finally joined us, Saemus.” He began, sounding spiteful, “I was beginning to think we’d have to get someone to perform CPR.” 

“I think you should calm down.” Aaron said slowly, turning those shocking violet eyes on Bran, regarding him with almost a bored expression. “You have been seething the entire ride. You need to relax before we arrive.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Came the redhead’s bit-out response, “You aren’t dating someone who doesn’t care about you.”

“ _Bran_!” The sudden boom from behind them had Saemus on his knees, looking at the man who had nearly stood at the words. “I _do_ care about you. But my brother is important to me, as well. I must protect him, you know that.” 

Considering the words, knowing they were true, the redhead scratched absently at his jawline before getting up. Seeing as the plane wasn’t due to land for another half hour, he sat in the larger man’s lap, and broad, strong shoulders curled inward as his arms caged the smaller male in. Sharing in a long, drawn-out kiss, it seemed their little feud was easily ended by a few tender touches. Of course, he was back to grouchy when the flight attendant told him, in a curt tone with a wry smile, to return to his seat because they were about to land. _Nobody_ talked to Bran Harris like that. Did they have any idea who he _was_? Personal Assistant to both Marlowe and Saemus Dumar, a rather famous family that happened to be in _politics_?

Grousing to Justice in hushed tones as they buckled back in, preparing to land, it was obvious that once they landed, the elder man would have to get a few drinks or Klonopin (whichever was easier to access) down his lover’s throat before he was going to be personable. With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, he witnessed the smaller man eek his foot into the aisle, effectively tripping the unsuspecting woman. Hiding his smirk beneath a hand, feigning a yawn to keep from grinning, Bran sat back in his seat, foot safely where it belonged to avoid suspicion.

“Honestly, you should be more careful.” He told her, earning a glare, but she quickly put on a plastic smile. 

“Thank you, sir.” With that, she was up and once more heading to her station, grumpy as she’d made the man who seemed intent on ruining her day, as well.

As the plane finally descended, parking in its designated spot, the little group was ferried out, first, likely to give the sour attendant some peace of mind. Making their way from the runway to the airport, Saemus seemed caged in by three bodies as they walked; Aaron at his back, and Bran and Justice at his sides. Aaron was happy to carry his own meager bag and Saemus’ several suitcases, while Justiced handled his and his lover’s just as easily. After pick-up, it was a short walk to the sleek, black rental car on the lot, the trunk nearly overflowing with all of their luggage. 

The redhead wasn’t the only one beginning to get fussy, now, as the noirette’s stomach growled loud enough for the entire car to hear. Deciding that checking into the hotel could wait, the group made their way to a nice little steakhouse, whittling away the daytime as they stuffed themselves silly.


End file.
